


The Creek

by Mullsandmutts



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: BB demon Patrick and BB angel Jonny, Demon/Angel AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-08 17:39:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11086617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mullsandmutts/pseuds/Mullsandmutts
Summary: Jonathan is a literal angel.  Patrick is a literal demon (but with a sweet and kind heart -- it's complicated, okay?).  They meet where their worlds are divided and existence might never be the same





	The Creek

**Author's Note:**

> This is a silly little WIP that I have had for quite some time and decided to take out and dust off for the Game 3 prompts "Summer AU's and Tropes" -- Demon/Angel for the Blackhawks Summer Fic Fest. I have a long and complicated story that this will one day evolve into but I wanted to get in on the action during the playoffs. One day the full story will be shared.....
> 
> Per usual, this is unbetaed. All mistakes are mine. Plus, listen folks, Heaven and Hell are way deeper philosophical and complex things to explain so just do some handwaving on this one. I don't pretend to be any kind of expert on either. I just wanted to write a cute tidbit so .... just work with me here.

The super awesome part of being the child of one of the most royal angel families in Heaven, and one of the most rule-abiding and serious among any of the children, was that it afforded Jonathan with the ability to wander freely throughout Heaven without much in the way of adult supervision. When he bored of playing with the other children (which he did quite often because they were loathe to follow rules and listen to his instruction), he could entertain himself by studying the stems on the daisies that grew in the meadow or watching the mother robin hop among her young as she fed them. His mother always smiled fondly and said that he was her stable and solid child, easily fascinated and hungry to learn about the worlds around him, both here in the realm as well as on Earth or anywhere that he might be allowed one day.

As Jonathan watched the vibrant green leaves of the giant tree above him against the cerulean sky, head resting on his arms and feet dangling on either side of the low branch where he currently reclined, he felt a pang of something unfamiliar. In all of his years (similar to that of an eight or nine year old human) he had never experienced this particular feeling. While he could normally be still for endless moments, today he felt fidgety, restless. His mind seemed to itch for something, yearn for something just beyond his consciousness. He had no idea what it was but he wasn’t a fan of the feeling.

He continued to lie in the tree branch, feet rhythmically tapping together beneath it where they dangled, until he heard a sharp cry. He bolted upright, gazing around wildly. It was a cry of hurt and sadness and loss, and to a child angel untrained in the ways of dealing with such emotions, it almost knocked him right out of the tree.

He looked around the meadow and saw no other beings or creatures save the woodland animals and birds. But they did not make that cry. That was the cry of a being, one like himself. 

He hopped down slowly, dusting off his bottom. He stood perfectly still then, wondering if he had imagined the cry. His eyes scanned the horizon and he saw nothing, not so much as a bush waving in the breeze or a bee buzzing through the flowers. He was about to resign himself as having imagined it when he heard it again, louder and more pained than before.

Jonathan’s legs seemed to move without thought, racing him toward the sound of the cries. His heart ached in empathy for the pained being. He was an angel for goodness sakes - it was his very nature to help those in need. He rounded the edge of the trees and stopped suddenly. The cries were closer, the sobs harder, but Jonathan was frozen in place. He was at the edge of The Creek. And he had never been this close in his entire existence.

The children of Heaven were raised on two indisputable rules. From inception, these rules were drilled into their heads. The first rule was Do No Harm. Simple enough: any time they could step in and help someone or something from hurting, they were expected to do so. But the second rule, reminded in far more serious tones, was to never go into The Creek.

Jonathan now stood less than ten feet from the bank of the small stream. He had never seen it up close, never even left the border of the trees on the meadow’s edge before. It was prohibited and he had never questioned that. He knew that The Creek was the final boundary. Between what exactly, he didn’t know, hadn’t been told that yet. He just knew that The Creek was the end of his realm. And what lay on the other side was dangerous and deadly.

But to stand here, so close to the tiny stream of water, Jonathan wondered what it could possibly keep at bay on the other side. It was a thin strip of water, no more than three feet across at its widest point. He watched, dazedly, as the water glittered and twisted in a gentle flow. It was hypnotic, mesmerizing in its curves and sparkles. Jonathan wanted to dip his toes into the clear water suddenly, the urge strong in his gut.

“Don’t!” Jonathan heard a young voice call out in a sniffly thick panic and he jolted. In the excitement of being so close to The Creek, he had forgotten all about the crying being. His head whirled around, body spinning as he tried to see where the voice originated. The trees and land seemed empty behind him. It was only when he turned to face The Creek again that he saw him – a boy. On the other side of The Creek!

Shock and confusion froze Jonathan where he stood. It was impossible, inconceivable. Jonathan’s heart was racing and his fists clenched. He was terrified of what this meant, what would happen next. He swallowed hard and clutched at what he should do, what he should say, what he should ….

His whirling thoughts skidded to a halt when the boy lifted his hand to wipe his sleeve across his face and then waved it in a small gesture of hello.

Jonathan stared at the boy, the distance not that great between them, maybe less than a human soccer field. It was clear that the boy was the owner of the crying, his face scrunched and eyes red-rimmed and swollen. Jonathan took in his tiny stature, dazzling blond curls and noted, even through the tears and distance, his exceedingly blue eyes. He was the most beautiful child Jonathan had ever seen. He must be an angel.

“Don’t go in!” The boy called out again, snapping Jonathan out of his daze. “You’re not allowed!” 

For some reason, that fired up annoyance in Jonathan, someone his own age but half as big shouting out instructions of the most basic rule.

“No duh,” Jonathan called out. “I’m not the one on the wrong side of The Creek so maybe you should have thought about that before you crossed over.”

The boy’s face screwed up and then turned red in anger.

“I’m not on the wrong side,” the boy planted his hands on his hips. “You’re on the wrong side, dummy.” 

Jonathan’s eyes widened in shock. He had never heard someone say such a thing in all his days. 

“I’m not sure who your parents are,” Jonathan huffed, walking slightly closer to The Creek and then stopping. “But they must have confused you about which side you’re supposed to be on. Heaven ends where I’m standing. You are clearly on the wrong side.”

The child’s face whitened and his eyebrows flew into his hairline. He rushed forward toward the edge of The Creek, stopping just before the water.

“You’re from,” the boy started then stopped and looked around before dropping his voice to whisper. “You’re from Heaven?” He asked incredulously.

“Uh, yeah,” Jonathan rolled his eyes. “What, are you trying to tell me that you’re from that side or something?” Jonathan snorted with sarcasm until he noticed the way that the boy’s eyes remained huge, almost awed.

“Yes,” the boy whispered as he nodded solemnly. Jonathan almost fell to the ground in shock, his knees weakening suddenly.

They both stared, realizing what they were seeing at last. 

“There are beings on both sides of The Creek?” Jonathan whispered in awe. 

“That’s what the rumor has always been,” the boy inched a little closer to the water. “That there were dangerous beings on your side, in Heaven,” he seemed to spit out. “Are you one of the angels?” he asked, voice a mixture of awe and disdain and bravado and fear all at once.

“I am,” Jonathan whispered back, scooting as close to the edge of the water as he could possibly get, terrified to realize that he was breaking rules and risking danger but unable to stop himself. “Aren’t you?”

The boy threw back his head and laughed heartily. He wiped at his eyes after a moment, at least this time out of humor rather than sadness or pain.

“What do they call you?” the boy suddenly tilted his head and then demanded.

“What do they call you?” Jonathan countered, still so confused and shock by all of this.

“I asked you first,” the boy crossed his arms over his thin chest and jutted his jaw stubbornly.

“Fine,” Jonathan let out a huff, sitting down on his butt in the sandy area on the shore. The boy mimicked the movement on his own side. “They call me Jonathan. Now what about you?”

“I’m Patrick,” the boy grinned, dimples as blinding as the sun reflecting off the water. Jonathan felt dazzled at the beauty of that smile. He shook his head vigorously as if shaking out a thought. Patrick winked smugly. “And I figured it out. I’m the opposite of you.” 

“What does that even mean?” Jonathan demanded. “There aren’t even supposed to be beings on your side of The Creek. How does that make you the opposite of me? That just makes you confusing.” 

Patrick’s face screwed up in anger but then something must have clicked in his brain because his jaw dropped and then his eyes widened again.  
“Oh my Hades,” Patrick whispered, leaning forward conspiratorially. Though they were nowhere near each other, Jonathan did the same thing. “They never told you about us?”

“Us?” Jonathan shook his head. “Who is us?”

“Jonny, my boy,” Patrick crossed his arms smugly. “The Creek is the boundary between Heaven and The Pit, you big dummy.”

“So?” Jonathan didn’t even fight the nickname, just stared at Patrick in confusion and frustration. 

“So you’re an angel,” Patrick offered, looking at Jonathan as if he was dumb and not understanding something.

“Yeah,” Jonathan huffed, getting more annoyed. Patrick rolled his eyes.

“Jonathan, if you are an angel and you live on Heaven side of The Creek that separates away from Hell and I live on the Hell side,” Patrick explained, eyes gleaming and dancing as they pinned Jonathan’s, “Just what do you suppose that makes me?”

***********

“I can’t believe you’re a demon,” Jonathan said for the fifteenth time, still frozen in the same place ever since Patrick’s big reveal.

“You already said that,” Patrick rolled his eyes and leaned back on his hands in the sand, The Creek still separating them by no more than ten feet.

“But how come you know about us and I didn’t know about you exactly?” Jonathan shook his head softly, face screwed up in confusion.

“Oh my Hades,” Patrick sighed in exasperation. “I’ve explained this like a thousand times. You must be dumb. And you are definitely boring.”

“You’re dumb,” Jonathan retorted automatically and then slapped a hand over his mouth in mortification. He never said such things, never even considered them. But Patrick just cackled merrily.

“See? Being bad is some times fun, isn’t it, Jonny?” Patrick winked and Jonathan flushed. Something on Jonathan’s face made Patrick drop and he let out a sigh. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me. Who am I even gonna tell?”

Jonathan pondered that quietly for a moment, distracted when an ugly dragon fly appeared and repeatedly bumped at his head.

“Stop that,” Jonathan ordered Patrick, suddenly filled with one hundred percent certainty that Patrick was somehow controlling the dragon fly. Patrick cackled merrily as Jonathan scowled. Patrick snapped his fingers and the dragon fly flew away. After a moment, Jonathan narrowed his eyes. “You’re not very nice.”

“Duh,” Patrick snorted. “Hello? Does the name demon mean anything to you? I’m nice. Or at least,” he bit at his lip and avoided Jonny’s eyes as he picked at his shorts, “I’m not supposed to be.” His face fell sadly and he seemed to shrug in on himself. Jonathan didn’t like how forlorn Patrick looked all of the sudden, how still he sat. They maybe had only known each other for a few moments but Jonathan already knew even if it was annoying, he preferred the way Patrick seemed to light up the whole universe when he smiled and laughed. And Jonathan felt pulled to make that happen.

“Why are you sad?” Jonathan asked. “Was that you that I heard crying, Patrick?” Patrick shrugged, gnawing on his lip and refusing to meet Jonathan’s eyes.

“It’s not important,” Patrick huffed, but his lower lip wobbled enough to tell Jonathan that he was lying. 

“I think it is,” Jonathan said softly. “If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t have been crying.” Patrick merely shrugged again, chewing so much at his lower lip that Jonathan was sure there would soon be blood. After a long while, Patrick took a deep shaky breath.

“I suppose an angel couldn’t make fun of me, right?” Patrick asked, eyes slowly looking up to meet Jonathan’s. “I mean, that would be against your rules, right?” Jonathan hated the way Patrick’s eyes looked red and watery, as if he were trying to fight back tears. He felt compelled to do or say whatever he could to change that.

“I wouldn’t make fun of you, Patrick,” Jonathan said solemnly. Patrick stared at his face for a long time, emotions in check as he studied Jonathan for something. Jonathan wasn’t sure what it was Patrick was looking for, but he did his best to keep his face as open and honest as he knew how, so that Patrick could see that he could trust him.

“I was,” Patrick’s voice was barely a whisper when he finally spoke, eyes dropping back to his cuticles as he picked at them. “I was crying because of this …” Patrick reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny furry thing. He held his palm out and Jonathan could see that it was a simple field mouse, brown and grey. Its lifeless body rested in Patrick’s palm.

“What happened?” Jonathan asked carefully, wondering if it was some kind of pet for Patrick. He watched as Patrick lightly stroked the forehead of the tiny, still mouse.

“I found him here last week,” Patrick took a deep shuddering breath, pain woven through his voice as his eyes blinked rapidly against tears. “I brought him food every day because I think he was hurt. He didn’t trust me at first but he was almost letting me pet him until …..” He stopped, gnawing on his lip. “Until I came today to feed him. When I got here, some of the other boys were here and they had found him,” Patrick sniffled, unable to hold back his tears. “I think he only came out because he thought it was me. But they …. When he …” Patrick started to cry softly. “They hurt him and he’s dead and it’s all my fault cuz he trusted me.” 

Jonathan’s heart fell as Patrick clutched the tiny mouse to his chest, anguished with guilt. Jonathan supposed he should be more bowled over by the fact that an alleged demon would have any kind of guilt over the death of a tiny mouse but Jonathan just kind of … knew. Knew that Patrick was different. Knew that he was genuine and good. Knew that he had to do whatever he could to bring that smile back to Patrick’s face.

“Did you name him?” Jonathan asked softly, causing Patrick to look up and blink at him a few times.

“What difference does that even make?” Patrick asked angrily, rubbing one sleeve across his face while the other still clutched the mouse to his heart.

“Just answer the question,” Jonathan grumped, not used to anyone being so darn contrary. Patrick stared at him for a moment, cheeks tear-stained and pink. After a long moment he took a deep breath.

“Don’t laugh,” Patrick ordered in a low voice, cheeks flushing even more. “I named him Mickey.” 

Jonathan used every bit of his strength and determination to keep from laughing or letting amusement show on his face at Patrick’s lame nickname based on the human entertainment cartoon mouse. Jonathan had learned about it in one of his classes. Humans were weird. 

“But what difference does it make?” Patrick continued in a frustrated huff. “He’s dead.”

“Patrick,” it was Jonathan’s turn to get to act like someone was dumb. “I’m an angel. It’s like my entire job to stop suffering and help people. Sometimes, I even get to heal things.”

“Ohhhhh,” Patrick’s eyes widened and he let out a long breath as he realized what Jonathan was saying. “But …. Even if you could do it, you’re over there and he’s over here.”

“I know,” Jonathan swallowed hard, suddenly nervous that he was getting Patrick’s hopes up. He had healed some scrapes and such on bugs and woodland creatures but he had never brought anything back to life before. It could fail miserably and then Patrick would be even more sad. But Jonathan knew he had to try. “That’s why I wanted to know his name. I mean, you made the dragon fly come over here to bump my head. Maybe I can order Mickey back to life from over here. It’s worth a try right?”

Patrick’s eyes were shiny and bright as he nodded his head frantically, staring at Jonathan in awe.

“What should I do?” Patrick whispered, swallowing hard.

“Uh,” Jonathan wasn’t actually sure. But he didn’t want Patrick to know that. He just wanted Patrick to keep looking at him like that. “Maybe put him in your hands and hold him out so I can see him?” Patrick did just that, hesitating just one second to lean down and press a light kiss to the head of the tiny dead mouse. Jonathan blanched. His mother would not have approved in any way of that action but Jonathan saw it for what it was, a gesture of love – from a demon. And that caused his tummy to do weird flips and his heart to race a little funny.

“Okay, like this?” Patrick asked worriedly. Jonathan stared at the mouse for a moment, curled up in Patrick’s oddly pretty hands. Jonathan closed his eyes and said a quick prayer, asking that he be given the power to help return the life to the body of this little wild creature who found himself strangely cherished by of all things, a child demon.

“Mickey,” Jonathan said softly as he opened his eyes. “You are a lucky creature who has the greatest miracle that can happen in life – you are loved. Let this love heal you and bring you back to where you are intended to be – alive and well and in his care. I ask this of the One and give you His permission to return to life.”

No one was more floored than Jonathan when Mickey’s tiny body flinched and his little eyes flicked open to stare up at Patrick’s. Jonathan blinked, winded and suddenly tired from the expenditure of cosmic energy. But when Patrick clutched the little mouse to his chest and brushed his cheek back and forth against the now rousing creature, suddenly Jonathan felt like he could lift the entire universe with one finger. Patrick dimples were brighter than the sun as he murmured nonsense to the little mouse, promising to keep him alive and well forever and ever. 

Jonathan almost felt an odd pang in his chest of jealousy as Patrick flooded the critter with love and cuddles to his chest. He watched as the mouse slowly sat up onto all fours, a little wobbly in Patrick’s palm. Patrick dug into his pocket and pulled out a small strawberry, holding it out to Mickey who sniffed at it and weakly started to nibble. Patrick sat Mickey down on his lap, letting the mouse eat the strawberry as he stroked one finger down his back.

“Is he okay?” Jonathan asked worriedly, desperate to know what Patrick was feeling, thinking. He was rewarded by a look of such adoration and hope and happiness from Patrick that it slammed Jonathan in his gut, filling him with a rush of joy and bliss and a hunger to never let that look from Patrick go away.

“You did it, Jonny,” Patrick whispered, awed and almost reverent. “You fixed him.” Jonathan flushed, greedy to have that praise but knowing One greater than him was to be credited.

“I didn’t really do anything,” Jonathan mumbled, embarrassed. “You did it. Your love did it. Love is the most powerful thing, Patrick. I don’t know if they teach you that where you live, but it’s the truth. Always believe in love. No matter what.”

Patrick stared at Jonathan’s face, the focus so intense that Jonathan almost felt overwhelmed by it. Yet he endured it, staring right back and knowing there was no place he would rather look.

“I will, Jonny. I will always believe in love.” Patrick vowed solemnly. “And I will always believe in you.”

*********


End file.
